Ring Gear Repartee or RKO's Tights Plight
by Beyond The Mat
Summary: Randy Orton is having new gear made but has an um, noticeable 'specific issue' he needs addressed with the designer. The new gear might have restraints, but their conversation doesn't! Mentions of Cody, Ted and Santino. Reviews requested!


**Published July 2011; Written, well, right now, right here inside the doc manager coming off a fresh idea that two characters in our Roleplaying Forum are kicking around. (The link is in our profile and we hope that fellow writers who love storytelling come and join us.) This breaks from our norm of publishing only stories we've already told: This is actually going in reverse. A preview, if you will, not so much of what's to come in our forum but more of our style. Posts that we refer to as 'one-liners' are frowned on, in the same vein as a text you'd receive on your phone that simply said " k." The eleventh letter in the alphabet can cause feelings of fury when received, lol...are reply posts any different sometimes?**

**The characters in question are Randy Orton, who you're all familiar with, and Augie Cardinale, an OC whose bio you can find in our Registration section. Randy is his typical 'douchebag' self with a bit of flirtatiousness and Augie can give it right back. There's no sexual tension or anything between the two; just good humor, harmless flirting and banter. This is a One-Shot story. Randy may be a repeat customer but there's no need to write more than one actual chapter between Randy and Augie. If she is well-received, she may reappear with other Superstars or Divas. While we generally welcome reviews, we'll go a step further and actually request them for this particular story, simply to find out if breaking our tradition of 'telling after the fact' was worthwhile for you as the reader as well as a reaction to one of many of our OCs. It was challenging yet welcome for our writers, but we'd prefer to, as Vince McMahon might seem disinclined to do much of the time, "give the people what they want." Thank you in advance for your assistance.**

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><p>"Get your ass out of my face, Orton," Augie grumbled as she held a few straight pins in her mouth as she was fitting him for some new trunks. While close contact was part of the job, Randy had bounced around a little jokingly and while the dark-eyed beauty had laughed it off a few times, his screwing around was starting to wear on her a bit today.<p>

"Get your face out of my ass, Augie," he chuckled, but took it as a cue that he was starting to test her patience, so goodnaturedly straightened up. Looking in the mirror, he was admiring Augie's handiwork. The new trunks were not so much of a throwback to his old purple ones - because the old purple ones had a tendence to 'show too much'. Like those unfortunate moments when you get a hard-on in the middle of the ring. Hell, there were pictures on the internet of Cena in his jorts at full-staff. If denim can't hide it, then what the fuck? He'd talked to Augie candidly about the problem and admitted that's why he'd been wearing primarily black for a few years now.

He'd come to her last week to explain what he'd wanted in ring gear.

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><p>They'd had a cup of coffee in her shop and he'd told her all about the hard-on issues. It wasn't something Augie was unfamiliar with, but joking around with it wasn't something she could pass up. It would also cut the embarrassment factor, since by the time Randy had explained all of it, he'd blushed some. Augie wasn't one to blush regardless of how bawdy language got from her clients, and she wanted them at the same amount of ease that she was.<p>

"Maybe you should ease up on the baby oil," she'd said, as serious as a heart attack in expression and tone but she was about to bust his balls. Randy didn't even see it coming.

"Why?" He'd asked. Maybe the master costume designer knew something he didn't, like an effect on trunks material and baby oil. Maybe it seeped in or whatever the fuck and she could give him a couple of tips?

"Because you're out there all lubed up, bouncing around with another sweaty dude, and the next thing, your cock's clamoring for attention. Stop turning yourself and your opponents on." She grinned mischieviously, and then Randy just...well, he didn't get mad. "Fucking skank, loser, doofus, asshole, brat," he'd said, touching all bases as he chuckled. Augie was somebody you couldn't get mad at. She had deep dimples and a great sense of humor and while he was partial to brunettes, Augie was a) one of the guys, b) someone he didn't want to mess up a friendship with and c) somebody you'd have to treat right and Randy was too happy bedhopping and putting himself out there as a manwhore to even -think- about committing. He respected Augie in a way. And at this point in his life, women he respected were off-limits to fuck.

Augie would admit she thought Randy was hot. She'd also follow up with admitting he was a douchebag, probably a walking STD, and while he might be a great client and a fun drinking buddy, there was no chance in hell she'd spread her thighs for him. Flirting wasn't anything bad. It meant nothing and it was just a way to pass the time. After she'd made the baby oil joke, she then explained how she'd design the new ring gear for him, in whatever colors he wanted and in such a way that would not so much prevent, but seriously lessen any embarrassment.

"Lemme ask you something personal, Randy."  
>"Go ahead, Augs."<br>"You ever jerk off before you go out to the ring? That might keep your issue from popping up."  
>"Tried it. Problem is, I come once and within 10 minutes, I'm hard again. So that actually makes it worse."<br>She nodded. Obviously Randy wasn't shooting steroids anymore if what he was telling her was the truth, because back in 2006-07 when she made his tights, his dick was never a problem.

She told him about her new concept, an exclusive design she'd come up with, and would use him as her test case.  
>"You want me to be your guinea pig," he muttered.<br>"You just call me a Guinea?" she'd asked, caught off-guard. She hadn't heard the full mutter and her Italian-American ears only picked up on the potential slur.  
>"HELL NO, Augie. Oh my God. You know I love Italian girls. My ex-wife's one. I said guinea pig."<br>She grinned wryly, glad he hadn't used the ethnic slur, then made light of it. "So you called me a pig then."  
>"Yup. Fuckin' pig," he teased. Then they got to talking again about what she'd do for his new gear to make it help.<p>

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><p>"I got the idea from minimizer bras," she'd said.<br>"What fucking girl would want to minimize their tits?" he asked in disbelief. He'd never even heard of minimizer bras. "Lots of chicks pay for big ones!"  
>She rolled her eyes, "And lots of women want their clothes to fit right. So they strap the puppies down and get a smoother line. It's basically a compression thing."<br>"YOU'RE GOING TO COMPRESS MY DICK?" Randy asked almost in a panic.  
>Augie burst out laughing at the look on his face. "Orton, shut the hell up. No. It's like, okay. You know how you tape your wrists up?"<br>"YOU'RE GOING TO TAPE MY FUCKING DICK?"

Now she had tears almost shooting out of her eyes. He was SCARED and it was hilarious. "Forget it, I'm not gonna explain the actual design. Just picture it more like having a secret panel with something like a built-in cup like you'd wear for amateur wrestling or baseball, except it's softer and you won't chafe. Try them on and come out when you're done so we can fit them right."

He'd come out and that's where this story began, where she had to tell him to stop fucking around and stand up straight. She pinned where she needed to and then stood up, beside him, looking in the full-length tri-fold mirror.  
>"Whaddya think?" she asked.<p>

Randy had been watching in the mirror and turned to the side to see. On the exterior of the tights, whose waist needed adjustment but everywhere else fit well, he could see that his bulge wasn't as prominent. "They look smoother," he said as he turned and looked over his shoulder to see how his ass looked as well. "And you're right. It's like a cup, but not pinching or anything. You gonna start making this standard in everybody's gear?"

"Probably not," she said, shaking her head, "because it's not cost-effective for me unless I raise the price. Takes extra labor and it's not like every client will talk to me about their hard-ons like you. But I'd put them in gear if asked."

"I'll tell Cody, Ted and Santino about it, keep it on the down-low with those three." Cody, Ted and Santino were of course clients of Augie's as well. "If this works then you're really a superstar, kid," Randy said with a smile.

"It should work, Orton. It's not like I have a dick and could test it myself, but I'm confident it'll make issues less noticeable. Go back in the fitting room and get those off so I can finish the alterations." Randy nodded and headed back where his clothes were. Augie refilled their coffee cups.

"Hey Aug," he called out from behind the curtain.  
>"What," she called back. She hoped he hadn't fucked up the pins.<br>"It works!" he shouted.  
>"OH MY GOD-ARE YOU JERKING OFF IN MY FITTING ROOM?" she asked, mortified. She was NOT about to clean THAT up.<br>"NO!" he called back with a laugh. "Just had a few X-rated thoughts to get semi-hard, and it worked. I didn't go any further than that."  
>"Thank God or I'd have had to kill you," she yelled back and shook her head.<p>

He came out a few minutes later with his regular clothes on, and handed her the tights back. She'd put on a latex glove as a joke before he came out so she could take them back from him. He smirked, she laughed, and his new gear would be ready a week from today for pickup.


End file.
